


Downpour

by Annie17851



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie17851/pseuds/Annie17851
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way back to a motel from anywhere, the Impala gets a flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> No matter how many times I try to format this, the paragraphs are not working right. Anyway; could be anytime in the SPN 'verse; Cas is human; he and Dean are stuck on the highway with a flat.

Downpour

The sharp sound is loud, even over the pounding of the rain on the Impala. The car swerves, but only momentarily, as Dean has it back under control before Cas’ hand even reaches the dash to brace himself.  
“Fuck,” Dean mutters, pulling off the dark highway, then “Flat tire,” at Cas’ puzzled frown. Cas nods briefly, not sure if he is expected to sympathize.  
“I’m sorry?” the angel ventures tentatively.  
“Condolences appreciated, Cas, but not really helpful,” Dean tells him, grabbing his phone – his just-about-dead phone – and calling Sam. Voicemail.  
“2 am, Sammy!” Dean says sarcastically to his absent brother. “Put down the book, or the laptop, or the girl, or whatever you’re into and answer the freaking phone. Baby’s got a flat and I have to change it in the pouring rain, so, we’re going to be late. There better be beer when I get there!”  
“Can you fix it?” Castiel asks curiously. “Sam does not have a vehicle to come and get us.”  
“Well, even if he did, he’s not answering his phone at the moment. So now, you get to learn how to change a tire. The human way, since, you know, no mojo and all.”  
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas mumbles, head down to look at the hands in his lap. This being human thing is hard on him, a mystery he is determined to solve. “I’ll help,” he offers.  
“Damn right, you’ll help! We have to get all that crap out of the trunk so I can get at the spare.”  
Dean gets out of the car and heads around to the trunk, seemingly oblivious to the deluge out there in the dark.  
Castiel sighs and steps out into the cool rain, wary of this new, wet experience. Castiel hates being wet, especially now, when he can’t dry himself with a snap of his fingers, when it reminds him of walking into water and drowning.  
Dean has his head in the trunk, and is already starting to hand weapons out behind him, expecting Cas to be there. Cas hurries to take the handful of knives from the hunter.  
“Back seat,” Dean directs him tersely, and it only takes about two minutes to get all the knives, guns, stakes and assorted paranormal fighting paraphernalia into the back seat with as little rain falling on the stuff as possible.  
Cas watches with interest as Dean lifts the floor of the trunk up and drags out another wheel for the car, complete with intact tire. Cas has pulled the collar of his trench coat up against the rain, uselessly, and wonders aloud if the rain is bothering Dean as much as it is bothering him.  
“Par for the course,” Dean tells him, rolling the tire to the passenger side rear of the Impala, where, yes indeed, the tire is most definitely flat. He sighs at the look he can see on Cas’ wet face out of the corner of his eye. “Yea, I know – I’ll explain that reference later,” he promises, a hint of pleased amusement in his voice despite the annoying flat.  
Dean manages to talk Cas through fetching the jack and the lug wrench from the space where the spare tire was hidden and Cas watches, fascinated, as Dean works the lug nuts loose and pulls the offending wheel off the car, sliding it off into the wet, muddy shoulder of the road.  
Cas is leaning in close, watching over Dean’s shoulder, as he positions the new wheel onto the car and starts reaching around to find the discarded lug nuts. Heat from Dean’s body is coming right through the hunter’s clothes and Cas, wetter than ever in the heavy rain, welcomes it.  
Cas stoops down and helps find all the lug nuts, holding out his hand, the cold, wet pieces in his palm.  
“Here,” he says simply, and the touch of Dean’s fingers on Cas’ hand as he takes them, one by one, to replace them, makes Cas forget he is soaking wet.  
Dean takes the last nut from Castiel’s hand, face half-turned toward the (now-ex) angel, crouched down beside him in the dark, dripping wet. It’s that personal space thing again, that thing Castiel just doesn’t comprehend when he is with Dean.  
“Cas,” he starts, and then shakes his head, making even more raindrops fall onto his face from his sodden head. “Thanks,” he says instead.  
He’s tightening the last nut when his hand slips off the wet wrench, slamming against the underside of the car. Dean hisses in pain and pulls his hand against his soaked shirts. “Fuck!” he voices for the second time.  
“Dean!” Cas exclaims in dismay, grabbing the hand, forgetting that he can’t help.  
“It’s fine!” Dean tells him, taking his hand back, pointedly trying to ignore the slight skip in his chest at the contact. “Can you just tighten that? Then we’re done.”  
Having watched Dean avidly, Castiel has no trouble with the last nut, and then stands, reaching a hand down to help Dean to his feet. Dean doesn’t need any help (hunter here, thank you anyway), but he grips Cas’ hand tightly and gets pulled to his feet.  
He wipes rain out of his eyes, it’s really coming down and thank whatever lord there is that it’s August and not January, because at least it’s not freezing cold.  
“We’ll put the stuff back in the trunk when we get back to the motel,” he tells Cas. ”Just have to stow that flat in the trunk and we can get going again.”  
“I’ll do it,” Cas offers. “Your hand.”  
“Hand’s fine,” Dean remarks, holding it up and wiggling his fingers as a demonstration of his superb healing powers.  
“So, can I get back in the car now?” Cas asks hopefully, face turned up to look at Dean.  
Castiel is soaked, not unlike Dean himself. Rain is running off his hair, down his face, soaking every one of the too-many layers he wears constantly. Dean is just as wet, but he has forgotten that, as he is hit in the gut with an insane urge to taste rain from the Heavens on an angel’s skin. Not good, Winchester, his brain says.  
“Yea, sure,” Dean mumbles, grabbing the flat tire and stowing it in the compartment in the trunk. Cas is still standing, getting drenched, on the shoulder of the road, hand on the door handle, reluctant to get into the car when Dean is outside, still getting soaked and cold.  
Dean’s legs somehow carry him around to the passenger side of the Impala, instead of to the driver’s door, which is certainly where he should be going, and Cas watches him quizzically, head tilted in that familiar way of his. Dean’s heart notches up about five or ten beats and this is really nuts. The rain is just pummeling them, and Dean is soaked and Cas is soaked and Dean thinks he has never seen anything so literally tantalizing in his life.  
Nuts. And fuck it anyway.  
Dean gives in to the drenching rain, to his angel’s closeness, to the dark of the deserted highway, to his middle-of-the-night fantasies and reaches down to cover Cas’ hand on the door handle with his own. The twist in his gut reminds him that he is, in fact, Dean Winchester, but the small gasp of breath from Castiel, clearly heard even against the pounding of the rain, reminds him that this is Castiel, angel of the Lord, who loves Dean undeniably.  
“Cas,” Dean whispers, and doesn’t know what else to say or how to say it. Green eyes meet blue and Dean reaches up to put both of his hands on either side of Cas’ so-wet face.  
Cas’ eyes close against the rain and the feelings, but Dean keeps his eyes open, watches every raindrop that makes its’ way down his angel’s face, gives in to the urge to taste and leans in to mouth a few raindrops that have gathered near the top of one of Cas’ ears.  
“Dean,” Castiel moans and his hands reach up into Dean’s wet hair, scrunching through, pulling Dean’s head just enough to make their lips meet, to taste rain and Dean and if Cas can have this as a human he doesn’t ever want to be an angel again.  
Dean pushes in closer, pinning Cas against the car, rain still pounding down on them and they can’t get any wetter than they already are so they don’t care. Cas is moaning through the kiss, and his hands move down, across Dean’s chest, his sides, down to the waist of his jeans. The denim is plastered with rain onto his skin and still Cas manages to get some fingers between the jeans and Dean’s damp skin and pulls Dean forward, smashes their hips together and Dean has a second to think that maybe Castiel isn’t as humanly clueless as they all think he is before his brain sends most of his hot blood South, into his cock. Crazy thought races through Dean’s mind that rain will be a turn-on for him for the rest of his life.  
Cas gasps as Dean tears his mouth away from the kiss, trailing fire down across the angel’s jaw, his throat, sucking on his Adam’s apple lightly, feeling the hum of Cas’ moan on his lips and that urges his hips forward even harder. Dean can feel the thickness of Castiel’s cock against his, even through all the rain-soaked clothes, and Cas is trying to say something, Dean has to force himself to listen.  
“Car’” Cas is gasping, face turned up into the deluge and Dean can feel the rumble of the words in Cas’ throat, grinds against Cas helplessly, heat rushing through his veins, into his cock and he is so impossibly hard and needy and this is everything he didn’t know he wanted.  
“No,” Dean refuses, muttering against Castiel’s wet skin, “Too hot, too good, all wet, staying right here,” and Dean punctuates that with a harder thrust of his hips against Cas.  
Cas almost can’t breathe now, something burning inside him, making his heart race, constricting his lungs and he pulls Dean’s face back to his, because he needs to have more of Dean, needs to taste more – all – of Dean.  
“Can’t wait, Cas,” Dean breathes into the angel’s mouth, reaching down between them to find zippers and Castiel stops breathing altogether when Dean finally has both of their cocks in his hand, fingers placed just so and the rain feels so cool, feels like it should be steaming when it hits their hot skin. And then Dean’s hand starts moving and Castiel’s brain shuts down, centers itself on what Dean is doing and Cas thinks he is going to pass out, explode and die. Dean’s hand stroking up and down, sliding through the rain-slick, thumb brushing over both tips when his fingers get to that spot, quick strokes down, slow strokes up and Dean’s tongue is fucking Cas’ mouth demandingly. Something white-hot is burning Castiel’s insides and wants to come out and Cas wants to let it, but his legs don’t want to hold him up and his back is against the cold steel of the Impala and it’s Dean’s car and it’s Dean crushing against him and that’s more like Heaven than Heaven really was.  
Dean’s strokes get a bit erratic and frantic and the hunter mashes his mouth even harder against Castiel’s, devouring and then they are both coming, gasping into each other, Dean’s frenzied, needy motions slowing down finally as he leans into Cas’ shoulder, breathing heavily. Cas is almost off his feet now, legs really starting to give out beneath him, but Dean has leaned in, warm support, and he is whispering into Cas’ ear.  
“I’ve got you, Cas. I won’t let you fall. Never again.”


End file.
